Jack Shian and the King's Chalice by Andrew Symon Read Free Book Online Page B

Little sunlight filtered down this far. They had walked only a couple of minutes when a young sapling fell across their path.
    “That’s far enough!” commanded a voice.
    Jack looked, but couldn’t see who was speaking. His heart started to beat more quickly, and the sweat now ran down his back.
    “Yer grig telt me ye were comin’, Ossian, son o’ Hart. Ye dinna usually venture intae the woods this far. Whit brings ye here?”
    Ossian looked vainly to see where the voice was coming from. As had happened when the Oakshee had tried to grab his ankles, Ossian didn’t – or couldn’t – speak. On impulse, Jack stepped forward, his blue eye flashing in the gloomy light.
    “I am Jack Shian from Rangie,” he announced. “The Oakshee told us you might know what has happened to my father, Phineas of Rangie.”
    He paused, unsure if he was facing in quite the right direction. Gradually, an old woman appeared in front of him. She wore a black full-length cloak, but her head was uncovered. Her eyes were set deep in her worn, creased face, and her hair was matted and dirty, its true colour unknowable. Jack guessed that she was old, but he had no idea how old.
    “Ye’re a bold creature tae walk this far intae the woods,” she said, staring at Jack.
    Excitement and nervousness competed within Jack. Was that a compliment or a warning?
    “Aye, I’ve heard o’ yer father,” continued Tamlina, in her powerful voice. “Tamlina sees all. Whit dae ye want o’ me?”
    “Is he alive? Where is he?” The questions exploded out. Unsure what to expect, Jack hadn’t prepared a speech. “I just want to know where he is.”
    Tamlina stared intently, as if appraising Jack’s worth. Then she nodded.
    “Come along, and bring the lassies wi’ ye. The ithers can bide here.” Her voice was authoritative. She turned and started to walk away.
    “Where …” Jack began, but a ferocious look from the old woman halted him. Her eyes seemed to bore right through him. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked down. Tamlina snorted, turned and swept away. Jack glanced back, and drawing on his reserves of courage motioned to Rana and Lizzie to follow.
    Tamlina stopped abruptly beneath an old oak, and turned round. A black pot bubbled away over a small fire, a sharp, acrid smell rising from it. Lizzie, glancing back nervously, saw that Petros and Ossian were just in sight.
    Tamlina picked up a long wooden spoon and stirred the contents of the pot, muttering to herself. Jack, Rana and Lizzie shuffled awkwardly, unsure of what to do.
    “Sit doon, sit doon,” barked Tamlina, apparently aware of their unease. “I’m jist makkin’ some broth. Mebbe ye’d like tae try some?”
    Rana and Lizzie exchanged anxious glances. Their unease increased as Tamlina dropped three large mushrooms into the pot. The broth sizzled briefly, and steam rose up, partially obscuring Tamlina’s face.
    “We’d love to,” announced Jack, glaring pointedly at his cousins. Rana and Lizzie looked nervous, but said nothing. Tamlina clicked her fingers, and four leather goblets appeared in front of her. Pouring a small measure of broth into each, she handed them round. Jack blew gently into his goblet and waited.
    “Ye’re wantin’ to find oot whit becam’ o’ young Phineas o’ Rangie?”
    Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. He glanced at his cousins, who sat transfixed; neither had touched the broth given to them. Tamlina, gazing above their heads, seemed unaware of their presence. Abstractedly, she took a deep draught of the broth, slurping the fluid around in her mouth. Slowly, a look of intense concentration came upon her face, as if she gazed far back through the years. She began to speak, but her voice was quite different. The firm, commanding intonation had gone, replaced by a low mumble – it was almost as if she was a different woman. Jack, Rana and Lizzie all sat forward to try and catch her words.
    “Tamlina has seen many sorrows. Only